Eclipsed
by Fantasywriter14
Summary: A time traveler prevents the death of Arthur Petrelli by bringing Elle Bishop back to life. Sylar, Peter, and Elle must put aside their differences and embrace a common goal to take him down. Sylar & Elle. AU.
1. An Unexpected Reunion

[center]ECLIPSED[/center]

[center]Chapter One: An Unexpected Reunion[/center]

Zeke appeared out of no where.

It wasn't every day that someone appeared out of thin air, although it had become more common within the past two years. Now that random individuals had been acquiring strange powers recently, Zeke's appearance wasn't a terrifying shock. Being a time traveler, this was nothing new to him. Jumping through time was his favorite pastime; it was a thrill. It did, however, frighten the two individuals that stood in the laboratory he had jumped into.

One of them, a curly-headed man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, he didn't recognize. The other was an older man – the one he had come to find. They were both startled by Zeke's sudden appearance, but they recovered quick enough; both had seen worse. They worked with super-powered human beings daily. Zeke knew this already. He could have easily figured it out if he hadn't, he assured himself.

The dark, curly-headed man seemed just a tad bit more afraid than his older counterpart – he jumped and backed away from Zeke, eyes wide and hands held up in front of him as if to fend off an attacker. His protective stance was comical in a way. Obviously he was on edge, and Zeke couldn't necessarily blame him.

"Who are you? What do you want?" The man spoke with a thick British accent even though he appeared to be of Indian heritage. Reaching behind him, and knocking over several vials and bottles in his haste, he grabbed a gun, pointing it fearfully at Zeke with an unskilled hand.

"I can handle this, Dr. Suresh," said the older man, and he waved him off without a second glance.

The name Suresh rang a bell in Zeke's mind. Wasn't he some sort of well-known geneticist from India? Hadn't he started this whole mess? Locating powered individuals had been his goal in life. He had written a book about it, hadn't he? [u]Activating Evolution[/u]. Or maybe that was his father, and he was a nobody.

Either way, it didn't matter. Suresh wasn't the man he was after. Arthur Petrelli was the one he had been sent to locate . . . The man who stood before him now – alive and well. Oh, if only Zeke could keep him that way. But altering the future was extremely difficult. He had a low chance of success.

Zeke smiled a strange half-smile, his blue eyes looking especially mysterious in the dimly-lit laboratory. His friends would recognize the expression to be a friendly one, but Arthur may mistake it for a veiled threat. Of course, he may not. Zeke didn't actually know what Arthur was thinking; he wasn't a mind-reader.

"Arthur Petrelli. It's nice to officially meet you," he said, extending a hand. Arthur shook it, much to his surprise.

"Who are you?" Arthur questioned once he had taken a step back. His words were stronger and more commanding than Suresh's; he was used to being in charge. Zeke admired that in a man.

"Zeke Wilson, and that's all you need to know about me."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Blunt honesty. Straightforwardness. I admire that. I would introduce myself, but I suppose you already know me." The old man folded his arms. "Tell me why you're here."

Zeke grinned again. "I'm here so you don't die."

Arthur Petrelli was suddenly very interested to hear what Zeke had to say. It was apparent due to the way his brow creased, and the manner in which he let his hands fall loosely to his sides. Maybe the man didn't want to die. Zeke couldn't blame him.

"Die?"

"Yes. A man named Gabriel Gray is going to kill you in approximately twenty-four hours. And you can't really count on Nathan to run your company when you're in the ground, can you?"

Arthur would be surprised. How did he know that Gabriel Gray was going to kill Arthur? How did he know that Arthur was leaving his eldest son, Nathan, in charge of his company? Arthur's next words echoed Zeke's thoughts.

"How do you know this?"

"Oh, I know some things. The real question you should be asking is ' how do I stop it'?" Zeke pulled a vial out of his back pocket and held it up for Arthur to examine. "This little elixir here has the power to solve all of your problems. You see, it can bring anyone back to life with a single drop."

"You're going to bring me back to life?"

"No, not exactly," Zeke said matter-of-factly. "If I brought you back to life, it would raise suspicion. Everyone would know, I would be in trouble, and the elixir's secret would never be safe." The young man raised a hand to push back a strand of brown hair. "I figure if we bring Elle Bishop back to life-"

"Elle Bishop?" Arthur snapped, his small eyes narrowing. "What good is she to me?"

"I was just getting to that, actually."

God, was this man impatient. He wouldn't let Zeke speak, for crying out loud. Did he enjoy the sound of his own voice? Interruptions had always been one of his biggest pet peeves. That and forward text messages . . . But that was a different story. Perhaps Zeke was being impatient himself.

Zeke continued speaking, his voice as musical as ever. "I figure if we bring Elle Bishop back to life, we may have a chance of stopping Gabriel."

"I'm listening."

Dr. Suresh, who had since then put down the gun and taken up a position behind Arthur, suddenly spoke up.

"You can't be serious, trusting him! How do you now he's telling the truth?"

Arthur didn't bother to turn his head and look at him. Instead, he muttered a sharp reply. "I thought you would have learned to put your faith in me by now, Doctor."

Suresh closed his mouth quick enough.

"As I was saying," Zeke said, as if he hadn't been interrupted a second time, "we use Elle as a decoy. She attracts Sylar's attention, he leaves you alone. Simple enough?"

Arthur stroked his chin for a moment, studying the situation from every angle. It was a good plan, and it just might work. If Zeke was telling the truth, that is. And if he really was going to die, how else would he prevent it? It was worth a try.

"I always thought it would be Peter," Arthur muttered, speaking mainly to himself.

Zeke said nothing, instead tossing the vial without warning to Suresh. The doctor clumsily caught it and cast Zeke his darkest look.

Zeke returned his black-eyed gaze, smirking yet again as if it were a natural thing for him to do. "Go find Elle Bishop."

That was easier said than done.

[center]* * *[/center]

Today he would finally know the truth. No more lies. No more deceit. The truth.

All Gabriel Gray had ever wanted was the truth. But in this world of lies, the truth was hard to come by. Everyone had lied to him. Angela, Arthur, Elle . . . They had all deceived him, stabbed him in the back in their own special ways. Angela and Arthur had used him for their own selfish gain, manipulating him, telling him that he was their son. He doubted that. Elle had known the truth about his parentage all along, and she had never told him. That's what he had killed her. At least, he liked to think that was the reason.

And now, because of all the lies, Gabriel Gray was Sylar again. A murderer, a villain bent on revenge. That's who he was; he knew that. Now that he had acquired the power of lie detection from a rather unwilling victim, he would finally know the truth. If Arthur lied to him, then he would die.

The elevator let out a loud 'ding' and Sylar let his arms fall to his sides, stepping out when the doors slid open. After hours of ceaseless driving and thinking, he was finally at Pinehearst – Arthur's lair. Actually, it was more like a place of business, but a place of shady business could be considered a lair. And it seemed as if he had stepped out of the elevator just in time . . .

Peter and Arthur Petrelli were waiting for him. It took Sylar a moment to realize what Peter was even doing there. He had come to kill his father. Did the two have similar goals? Sylar was caught by surprise to see a gun in Peter's hand. Peter the Hero. Peter the Savior. Why was he doing this? Murder wasn't something that Peter Petrelli enjoyed, was it? Arthur could be considered a 'villain' but still . . . Killing his own father? Sylar pushed the thought from his mind and took a step forward.

Peter didn't even noticed Sylar's entrance. His brown-eyed gaze was locked on that of his terrified father. His companion, the Haitian, stood behind him, preventing Arthur from using any of his abilities against Peter. That was the Haitian's power – blocking abilities. Sylar had experienced it's effect more than once before. Taking his eyes off of the Haitian, Sylar studied Peter. The young man's face was beaded with sweat, probably struggling to pull the trigger. After a while of staring Arthur down, he managed it, and the bullet spiraled towards the man as if in slow motion. That's when Sylar made his presence known.

Sylar took another step forward and extended his hand, catching the bullet in mid-air. The Haitian was unable to block his powers; he was far too exhausted from holding Arthur in thrall for more than five minutes. The man's power came at a price. And now Sylar held Arthur's life in his hands. The bullet was held suspended in the air as if by magic. He could send it hurtling towards Arthur at any time if he wished. But first he would learn the truth. Was Arthur his father, or had Sylar been lied to the whole time?

He was just about to ask when Elle Bishop walked into the room, not at all like she'd been dead for a day. In his surprise, Sylar's brown eyes widened and the bullet clattered to the ground, unnoticed. How was she here, standing in the doorway? Was he dreaming, or was this real? Hadn't he killed her? Sylar couldn't distinguish reality from fiction in that brief moment.

"Elle?" His deep voice came in no more than a whisper. He was too shocked to speak clearly. Sylar's eyes were on her; he didn't notice the faint smirk on Arthur's face, or the puzzled expression on Peter's. "How . . .?"

"I came here to stop you, Gabriel," said Elle, walking towards him. Their gazes never drifted from each other. "We have to leave. Now." She reached up a hand and gripped his still-suspended arm, forcing it down.

Sylar stared at her for a long moment, relishing in the sight of her. However much he had wished to kill her, a part of him still longed for her. While the two of them stood there, having a silent reunion, Arthur disappeared. There was no explanation for it. He simply vanished. Peter and the Haitian were the only ones who noticed his absence; they ran out of the room in search of him, leaving Sylar and Elle alone.

As if suddenly realizing that this couldn't be happening, Sylar snapped out of his trance and jerked away from her touch. "I killed you!"

"I'll explain everything later. Trust me."

"Trust you?" Sylar snarled. "You lied to me! About everything. I could kill you again!"

When Elle didn't respond, Sylar spun around to look for Arthur. He was gone. Now he may never know the truth . . .

"Gabriel," Elle said gently, grabbing his arm again. "Please, just let me explain. I'm just as pissed as you are about this whole situation. I lied to you, yeah. But only because you were happy, and I didn't want to see you get hurt again." She paused, her voice growing softer. "You were changing."

Sylar gripped her wrist roughly, pulling her face close to his in anger. "I can never change. I don't want to." He studied the frightened expression on Elle's beautiful face – the face that he had begun to miss. "I wanted to kill you."

"I don't care about that any more," she murmured, the tone in her voice unchanged.

"You're scared of me! You think I'm a monster!"

"I made you that way!"

Sylar opened his mouth to say more and closed it just as quickly. There were still so many questions left unanswered; this was getting them no where. How was Elle dead one night and alive the next? What kind of twisted nightmare was this?

"Let's get out of here," he said, releasing Elle. She stumbled away from him like a wounded animal, pushing a stray blond hair behind her ear while trying to compose herself. It hurt him to see her like that – vulnerable and afraid. He burned those thoughts and feelings from his mind.

"And go where?" Elle finally asked after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "You're a murderer, remember? It's not that easy to blend in and go unnoticed."

"I was doing just fine before you showed up, actually."

Elle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, and for a moment it was just like old times. It seemed as if she were no longer afraid of him. "And to think I thought you would actually miss me," she whined.

Sylar crumbled; a pain-filled look contorted his features, but it was quickly replaced by pent up anger. "I don't know why I kept you around before."

"Was it because you [i]_liked me_[/i]?" Elle asked sarcastically.

"Shut up," said Sylar harshly, turning away from her. Elle didn't say anything, so he continued. "I'm leaving. You can follow me, or you can find Arthur." With that, he began walking, heading towards the elevator.

Elle stood there for a while to take a deep breath and wipe the tears from her eyes. There was no other alternative. She had to follow him.


	2. Similar Goals

ECLIPSED

Chapter Two – Similar Goals

The red mustang flew down the highway, ignoring the speed limit completely. Its passengers were already criminals on the run. Why worry about something as petty as a speeding ticket? That's what Sylar thought, at least. Elle, like always, disagreed with him. She didn't want to lose her life in a car crash; it would be a stupid way to go, nothing compared to being killed by her ex-lover.

"Would you slow down before you get us both killed?"

Sylar raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, but he didn't bother to slow down. His brown-eyed gaze was locked on the road ahead of them, lucky for her. Elle hated the way he had looked at her earlier – like he disgusted her. It was a totally different vibe than the one he had been giving off a day ago, when they had been 'in love' or whatever. One whole minute after she had pleaded with him to slow down, Sylar finally responded.

"I can't die, remember?"

He had acquired the ability to regenerate from Claire Bennet, and now he believed himself to be unstoppable. Claire Bennet had never been the same after Sylar had taken her ability. But neither had Sylar . . .

Elle couldn't help but lost her temper. "But _I_ can!"

"Apparently not," Sylar said, not bothering to take his eyes from the road. He pressed down harder on the gas pedal, speeding them up even more. "Because I killed you and here you are."

"Would you quit saying that?" Elle hollered above the roar of the engine. "Did losing me mean nothing to you?"

"Not really," he said slowly, as if he's said it a thousand times before.

"God, you're such a jerk."

Elle said nothing else for quite some time, thinking it best to keep her mouth shut. Arguing with him again couldn't lead to anything good. After explaining to him how she had been brought back to life by a time-traveler, Sylar hadn't really been up for much conversation anyways. He was probably still in shock, she liked to think; however, his attitude still hurt her. Elle had never seen him like this before. He had always been Gabriel to her, but now he was Sylar – someone completely different. She didn't want to know that part of him, even though she had helped create it.

Elle remembered that day all too well. It had been long ago, and she had changed since then, but she couldn't help but remember it. She had been on a job for her father. The company wanted to catch Sylar; it was their main priority. But they could only catch him in the act, and Sylar hadn't killed many people lately. It was Elle's job to find out why.

So she got to know the guy. Sylar was bent on "changing" and "being a good guy". Elle felt sorry for him. It wasn't his fault that he had urge to kill people, an overwhelming hunger that controlled him every day of his life. Maybe he _could_ be a good guy. Elle brought this idea to the company, but they would have none of it. She had to _force_ him to kill someone, just so they could catch him. He was too dangerous to be kept out in the open.

Details after that crucial decision on her part were mostly a blur . . . Elle had brought him a super-powered individual, and Sylar had killed him. He couldn't help it. If it hadn't been for her, Sylar may have actually been able to change. He might have been Gabriel Gray for the remainder of his life. And now Elle put the blame on herself. She thought about it every day. What would life had been like if she _hadn't _caused him to kill again? Would they have a normal life together? Maybe, but none of that mattered any more. What had happened had happened, and now Elle sat in the passenger seat of a red mustang with Sylar, who, as far as she knew, hated her. It couldn't really get much better than that.

Looking out her window, Elle noticed that the city had faded to open country – farms, cows, and more farms as far as the eye could see. She soon came to the realization that they were in Texas, close to her home-town. Elle hadn't been here in so long; she had never wanted to come back. Why was Sylar taking her here? What kind of strange thoughts and ideas were hidden behind that thick skull of his?

"Where are we going?" she asked calmly, almost cheerfully.

"I don't know."

"Yeah you do."

"Odessa, Texas."

He was actually talking to her now. They weren't arguing! Elle quickly thanked god, or whoever it was that people prayed to, and looked back at Sylar. His thick eyebrows were furrowed, probably in thought. What he was thinking about was a mystery to her.

"Why?"

"It's none of your business," Sylar replied, finally taking his eyes off the wheel to look at her, making Elle wish he would have never shifted his gaze. That fierce stare of his terrified her, even aggravated her a little bit. She wished she could slap that look off his face, but that would only make him angrier. "I'm dropping you off once we get there, and then I'm gonna go back to Primatech."

"Why?"

"I want revenge."

Elle pressed the subject further. "On who? Angela? Bennet? Who?"

"All of them."

Sylar's simple answers were starting to annoy her. Why was it so difficult for him to elaborate? "Well, you're not going alone. I'm coming with you."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No . . . You're not."

"Yes . . . I am." Elle looked him straight in the eyes, sticking out her chin to let him know she meant business. She could be rather fearsome when she truly wanted to be.

Sylar grunted and reached out a hand as if to grab her, but he lost control of the vehicle and they spiraled off the road and into a fence. Elle giggled, knowing that she had only succeeded in angering him even more but not really caring.

"Damn it, Elle!" he cursed, flinging open the car door and stomping outside. "Damn it!" Sylar ran a hand through his hair, taking a look at the minor damages caused by the fence. It seemed to Elle as if he was always throwing some sort of tantrum. Only a day ago, before he had killed her, he had been the biggest pain. She had learned to ignore him most of the time.

Elle threw open her door as well, stepping outside and making her way to stand in front of him. "I'm coming with you. You can't force me to stay in Odessa."

Sylar cast her a hateful look, taking his mind off the damaged car for a moment. "No you're not."

"Who made you my father? Oh, that's right. You killed my father!" Elle shoved him hard, practically yelling now. "_And_ me!"

Sylar gripped her wrist like he had done earlier, causing her to wince and recoil. "Get in the car." He then pushed her away from him, towards the mustang.

Elle looked back at him one last time before lowering her head and hopping back in the passenger's seat. Sylar had won the battle. Once he was seated, Sylar put the car in reverse and backed up, turning around and heading in the direction they had come from.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Pineheart," said Sylar. "Whoever that time-traveler was, he stopped me from killing Arthur for a reason – to keep his ideas alive."

Elle studied him curiously. "And?"

"And I've got to kill Arthur. Altering the future has never led to anything good."

Elle bobbed her head in understanding. Truly, she didn't care if Arthur lived or not. She was just glad Sylar wasn't taking her back to Odessa.

* * *

Peter Petrelli kicked down the door to the laboratory without even bothering to see if it was locked, striding in boldly with his gun pointed into the darkness. His silent companion, the Haitian, followed cautiously, willing to protect Peter at all costs. It wasn't his responsibility to watch the younger man's back; he chose to do so. When Arthur had disappeared, Peter's first instinct was to check the laboratory.

No one was there.

Arthur, Suresh, and Zeke were gone. How was it possible to leave the building so quickly without notice? Unless one of them had super-speed, it _was_ impossible. They had disappeared completely, and now Peter had no chance of stopping his father.

What would happen now that Arthur hadn't been stopped? Peter knew the answer to that question . . . Only a few weeks ago he had gone into the future. He had seen what life would be like in a world where every human being had abilities. It was horrific – a nightmare. Arthur was still alive, and that nightmare would soon become reality.

Even though he already knew that the room was empty, Peter flipped on the light switch and looked around, searching under tables, in closets, behind filing cabinets . . . Nothing. Not even a clue that may lead to where they were hiding. It was a mystery; one that Peter was determined to solve. One that he _had_ to solve . . .

"Where do we start?" Peter asked his Haitian friend, running a hand wearily through his hair. "He could be anywhere."

"You know your father better than I do, Peter. Where do you think he would go?" The dark-skinned man had always had a way with words, though he preferred not to speak most of the time.

Peter turned away from the man, sliding his palm down his face in frustration. "I wish I knew." Suddenly, his face brightened and he lifted his head. "Nathan! If anyone knows, he does."

"A good idea. Where do we find your brother?"

"I don't know. Last thing I knew he was here. Maybe he still is. Maybe he can help us."

The Haitian's expression was void of all emotion, passive; it seemed as if he didn't really care whether Peter found his father or not. But Peter knew better than that. "Didn't Nathan betray you?"

Peter scowled, remembering their last meeting. Nathan had left his brother, having decided to join Arthur instead. Could he be trusted? What if he wanted nothing more to do with Peter?

"Yeah . . ." Peter began slowly. "But Nathan is my brother. He'll help us."

The Haitian picked up on Peter's uncertainty, but he nodded anyways.

Peter scanned the room one last time before heading back the way they had come, his quiet companion trailing behind. His pace was quick and frantic, probably thinking that if they hurried they could catch Arthur. It was unlikely. Peter would occasionally stop when they reached a door, open it, look inside, and just as quickly close it and continue on. When they reached the end of the hallway, Peter stopped altogether, standing still.

"What is it?" asked the Haitian, the first thing he'd said in a long while.

"That door," Peter said softly. The Haitian followed his eyes, noticing that one of the doors was slightly ajar. "It's open." The young man took a step closer. "Someone's in there." He had lowered his voice to a whisper, practically tip-toeing as he made his way towards the door. The Haitian followed silently.

Once Peter stood directly in front of the opened door, he gave it a hard push and jumped inside the room, only to find that it was empty – just like all the others. "Damn it," he muttered, turning to face his companion. "Nothing."

The dark-skinned man looked behind Peter, and after a moment he pointed towards the desk in the far corner. "We may have our clue." A note lay in the center of the desk, which had been cleaned of all contents. The white slip of paper stood out, obvious. Why hadn't Peter seen it?

Reaching over, Peter picked it up gently, as if he were afraid to hold it too tightly lest he ruin the contents. "Nathan," he murmured. "It's for Nathan. This must be his office."

"He must have already read it," said the Haitian.

"Nathan," Peter repeated. "773 N. Garrison Road. Richmond, Virginia . . . What is this?"

"An address."

"I know. But to where? Is this where my – Arthur – is hiding?" Peter cut himself off, deciding it best not to use the word 'dad'.

The Haitian didn't answer. It was Peter's destiny to solve the mystery – not his.

"Richmond, Virginia. It'll take us hours to get there."

"We should leave."

"You're right." Peter stuffed the note into his pocket, leaving the room without another word. In his haste, he didn't even notice the man standing near the doorway until he spoke up.

"Peter Petrelli," Sylar said, and Peter and the Haitian spun around to face him. "I believe we have similar goals."


	3. Outlaws

ECLIPSED

Chapter Three: Outlaws

"Sylar," Peter snarled and raised his gun to point it at the man's forehead. It was a futile attempt; he was too slow, and it was impossible to kill the regenerating serial killer. With a flick of his hand, Sylar sent the weapon flying.

"You don't want to do that," he said calmly, a smile playing at his lips. "We want to help you."

"We?"

Elle stepped out from behind Sylar with a wide grin on her face, acting as if this was all just a game like she usually did. Peter recognized her immediately. He had spent four months of his life locked away at Primatech, with her as his only visitor. Her father owned the place; he had been the one to lock Peter away. Since his escape, Peter had only seen Elle once - when they had met earlier that day. He hadn't had a chance to speak with her or figure out why she was there. This was his chance.

"Elle?" he questioned, a hint of confusion in his voice. Why was Elle traveling with Sylar?

"Hi, Peter," said Elle flirtatiously, making her way to stand very close to him. Ever since her father had been killed, Elle hadn't been able to show her flirtatious side very often. Sylar had never enjoyed that side of her. But it had always worked on Peter . . . "He's telling the truth. We're here to help you." She ran a hand down his arm in a seductive manner, looking up at him with mischievous blue eyes. "Who else is going to keep you from getting into trouble? The Haitian?"

Behind her, Sylar sighed and rolled his eyes. "You want to stop your father. So do we."

"Why?" Peter asked, allowing Elle to have her way with him. He had grown accustomed to it during his imprisonment. "What's in it for you?"

Sylar shrugged. "Arthur lied to me."

"I just do what he tells me," Elle piped. She backed away from Peter and stood beside Sylar, her hands on her hips. "Do you want help or not?"

Peter folded his arms over his chest and looked back at his silent companion, who gave him a brief nod. The Haitian had never bothered to speak to those he didn't trust – Sylar and Elle included. It seemed as though he thought this to be the best option, however.

"Alright." Peter had no other option. If he didn't play along, Sylar would kill him. Without his powers, Peter was defenseless. If he went along with Sylar, he may have a chance of survival. And a chance of stopping his father.

Elle's face changed from cheerful and feminine to hard and stern in a matter of seconds. "So what's the game plan?"

"Richmond, Virginia. That's where Arthur is hiding. At least, we think that's where he's hiding."

"How do you know?" Sylar asked.

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper that he had found. "I found this." Sylar extended his hand to take it, giving Peter no choice but to hand it over. He studied it carefully, as if trying to distinguish whether it was real or fake.

"It looks like we're going to Virginia," said Sylar, smiling. His strange smile had always frightened Peter.

"Virginia?" Elle moaned in a disgusted sort of way. "Great. I can't wait." She gave Sylar a dirty look before turning back to face Peter. "Does _he_ have to come?" she asked, referring to the Haitian.

The dark-skinned man surprised them all by speaking. "This is your destiny, Peter. Not mine."

"You're not coming?" The Haitian's statement put Peter on edge. If Sylar and Elle turned on him, what would happen? The Haitian was the only one with powers now that Arthur had taken them from him.

"I cannot."

Peter nodded. It was understandable. It had been his decision to leave his home and accompany Peter in the first place. And he was right. This was Peter's destiny, not his. _He_ had to take down father. In the end, it would be _Peter_ who was truly tested. If Sylar and Elle wanted to help him, so be it, as long as it was of their own free will. Peter had to admit that he could use all the help he could get.

The Haitian returned his nod and turned his back on the three, leaving without another word. Peter watched him slowly round the corner, and then he turned his attention to Sylar and Elle once more. "What now?" he breathed.

"We have a car," Sylar said.

"Might as well go to Virginia!" Elle added, excitedly raising a fist out of habit.

"Yeah . . ." Peter eyed them both warily. They were an odd traveling group – Peter, Sylar, and Elle. But it just might work. However much Peter disliked being categorized as an outlaw, it was what he was. So were Sylar and Elle. "When do we leave?"

* * *

Having decided that driving a 1998 Mustang wasn't considered 'traveling in style', Sylar went about stealing another car – a silver Porsche that was parked out back. Peter went along with it. He might as well get used to Sylar's compulsive, deceitful ways if they were going to travel together. And Elle didn't seem to mind in the least, so that was a plus. Sylar took the driver's seat, Elle sat down next to him in the passenger's seat (because he didn't trust her in the backseat with Peter), and Peter stayed quiet in the back, preferring not to join in on the conversation (which was mostly an argument).

The three traveled for three hours, stopped for gas and a bathroom break, and continued on their way. They had a run in with the police once for speeding, but Elle took care of that, much to Peter's discomfort. Sylar had made the decision to stop for the night at a local hotel once they made it past Odessa. The next day they would hit Louisiana, travel along the coastal states, and reach Virginia the night after. Even though Peter knew that there had to be a faster way, Sylar insisted that it was the _only_ way. This ensued a loud argument between he and Elle, and when it ended Peter was forced to agree with Sylar to end the discussion. There had never been a longer day . . .

Sylar finally decided to pull into a motel half an hour after midnight, and the three of them immediately set about looking as ordinary and uninteresting as possible to avoid detection. Sylar let Peter book their rooms; he was the only member of the party who wasn't a wanted criminal. There were only two rooms available, and none of them were about about that.

Once they had booked the rooms and were wandering the halls, Elle began to whine about the sleeping arrangements. "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

Sylar could care less where Elle slept, so he answered with a provoking comment. "The floor."

"You're such a . . ." she began, trailing off. "Well, I guess I could always sleep in Peter's room." Peter cast her a quick glance, but he didn't say anything.

"No."

"Why not?" Elle pursued with a playful smirk. She involuntarily moved closer to Peter when Sylar glared at her. "Jealous?"

Sylar growled at her; the type of growl that made her want to run away and hide under a rock. "No. You can have your own room."

"But what if I want to stay in Peter's room?"

"You don't," Sylar said matter-of-factly.

"Yes I do."

"No you don't."

"Yes . . . I do."

It was obvious that there was something going on between the two. The constant bickering and jealousy gave away that much. But Peter wasn't prepared to say anything about it just yet.

"I know you don't, Elle. I can tell when you're lying."

Elle raised both eyebrows, putting as much hatred and malice into her next words as possible. "Really now? Who'd you kill to get that one?" Of course, it was only a guess. Elle didn't actually know that Sylar had taken the ability to detect lies from an innocent victim; she was only trying to prove a point.

"Shut up," Sylar snapped, taking the keys from Peter's hand. "Here. You get your own room." He practically threw the key at her before stomping off to his own room. However much Peter despised the thought of staying the night in a motel with two murderers, he couldn't back out now, and so he followed Sylar without a word.

It was only when she lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, that Elle's false, cheerful attitude slipped away and she began to cry – angry and hopeless. She was traveling with a man that she hadn't seen in a year and hardly knew, and another the she had been in love with. He probably hated her now. Maybe being alive again wasn't such a good thing after all.

* * *

Miles away in Richmond, Virginia, Arthur Petrelli made the decision to test the formula.

It wasn't just any formula. It was a formula that would, hopefully, give abilities to any individual. After weeks of tests and experiments, the formula had finally been perfected (with the help of Dr. Suresh, of course). Zeke Wilson's laboratory in Richmond was a brilliant hide-out, a great place to beginning testing. No one, Gabriel Gray and Peter Petrelli included, could find them there. No one would ever know what they were planning. Not even their test subjects knew entirely what was going on. Arthur was the only one allowed to know the details.

They would start with two test subjects. One of them, a man called Gavin Young, was a nobody from Bedford, Virginia. The other, Amber Collins, was a striking, hard-headed woman who insisted on knowing the exact details of the experiment. Neither Suresh nor Zeke would tell her, which only frustrated her further. The two of them were on the list of one hundred or so random individuals who had been chosen for the experiment. They had been the only two to return Arthur's phone calls.

All three men agreed that they were the perfect test subjects – unrelated, unimportant people from different parts of the United States. Amber Collins was to be injected with the formula first. Having finally signed the paper work, the young woman was isolated in a small glass room and tied to a chair; she didn't like that one bit. After several seconds, Suresh finally settled her down long enough to be injected and left the room to observe the results.

It took a few moments, but Amber reacted to the change in her DNA. Before their eyes her skin began to crawl, molding into another human being entirely. In an instant, Amber Collins had become Doctor Mohinder Suresh – a shape shifter. It was only an hour later that the team found out that Amber could only shape shift into someone that she had come in contact with recently, the reasoning behind her turning into Suresh. Arthur, Zeke, and Suresh did the same with Gavin, isolating him, injecting him, and waiting for results.

They were pleased with those results.

After the testing had ended, Arthur sat his test subjects down, outlining his plan. They were forced to agree. His request was simple – kill Peter Petrelli.

**Author's Notes: **This chapter was shorter than the others – I know. It's main purpose is to set up the next three chapters. I may not be posting Chapter Four for a while due to school starting up again, but I'll try and get it up as fast as possible.


	4. I Don't Believe You

**Author's Notes: **This chapter is going to be a tad bit more depressing than most. I've seen plenty of stories where Sylar is haunted by Elle's memory. In my story, Elle is haunted by _Sylar's_ memory. But don't worry. Good things will happen for Elle soon. I'm sure most of you will actually be pleased with this chapter.

ECLIPSED

Chapter Four: I Don't Believe You

_Unbearable, bitter pain was all that Elle felt for what seemed an eternity. One thousand thoughts raced through her mind; her life flashed before her eyes in an instant. The time she had accidentally set her grandmother's house on fire, those awful experiments at Primatech that she hardly remembered, her father pushing her to become someone that she wasn't, the first time she had met Gabriel Gray . . . And then nothing. Only darkness._

_The darkness was better than the pain, at least. It was almost soothing, pleasant in a way. Was this death? If so, maybe Elle could learn to enjoy it. She was better off here, wherever she was, than with Sylar. Why had he killed her? It had all been so sudden. Elle had expected him to be angry with her for lying to him, or even send her away, but kill her? That didn't make much sense._

_After what seemed like years of absolutely nothing, a light caught her attention, and Elle wandered towards it. Well, she didn't exactly "wander" towards it. It was more like the light came to her. Before she could think about what the heck was going on, or what this light was, it disappeared completely and was replaced by an all-too-familiar face. Gabriel Gray stood in front of her._

_Elle opened her mouth to form words and realized that she could speak._

"_What are you doing here?"_

_They weren't exactly the words she was looking for, but they would have to do. What else was she supposed to say? Ask him why he had killed her? Scream at him for breaking her heart? Beg him to take it all back? There was no way._

_Gabriel, or Sylar, or whoever he was smiled – a twisted, odd smile that sent a shiver down Elle's spine. He had his hands in his pockets like he sometimes did, his brown eyes studying her intensely like he had never seen her before. Elle could usually guess at what he was thinking, but this time was different._

"_Hello?" she asked, irritated, and her voice echoed in the empty blackness. "Are you gonna answer me or not?"_

_He shrugged. "You brought me here."_

"_I brought you here?"_

"_You wanted to know why I killed you." He paused, probably trying to come up with an answer. "And I don't know why I killed you, Elle. Maybe I wanted to."_

_Elle shook her head immediately. "No you didn't. I know you didn't."_

"_I didn't want you around anymore. I didn't need you anymore. I wanted to kill you."_

"_I don't believe you," Elle whispered into the darkness, tears forming in her eyes. She was so vulnerable in her dreams . . ._

_Those words struck something inside of him, rekindled some lost emotion. He lowered his head to avoid her blue-eyed gaze, removed his hands from his pockets, and took a step closer to her to grab her hand gently. Finally, he looked up, and Elle saw that his eyes conveyed a strange emotion – guilt. Strange for him, at least._

"_I was afraid that keeping you around would be a weakness, a liability. I was afraid to put my trust in you." He leaned in closer. For a moment Elle thought he was going to kiss her, but he only whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry, Elle."_

_The horrific pain returned; Elle reached up a hand to her forehead and blood trickled between her fingers, running into her eyes, blinding her. The cut had reopened, almost as if he had killed her a second time. "Oh, god. Oh, god, no." She let out an agonized cry, unable to hold it in anymore. The last thing she saw was Sylar's guilt-struck face staring back at her before everything faded to black once more._

_* * *_

Elle woke with a startled cry and found herself covered in sweat. It took her a moment to realize where she was – in the motel, alone in her room. She took a deep breath to calm herself, for she had been very close to hyperventilating, and pressed a hand to her forehead instinctively. The blood was gone. She was alive. It had all been one terrible nightmare; none of it had been real. However much she said it aloud, Elle still didn't believe it. The dream had seemed real enough. It had felt like death.

Elle turned her head to look out the window and immediately saw that it was morning, well past dawn. The sun that shone through her window reminded her of the light in her dream, bright and foreboding. Elle stared at it for a long time, shading her eyes against the blinding rays. She didn't really know why she was staring at the sun. Maybe it was only because it stopped her from thinking about the nightmare.

A knock at the door caused her to finally look away. Elle sighed, which sounded more like a sob, and stood up, slipping on a pair of house shoes and making her way towards the door. The knock sounded again, this time louder.

"I'm coming," she said, trying to banish the sad tone. "I'm coming, I'm coming." Elle already knew who was at the door. There was no denying it. She would have to face him sooner or later anyways.

When she opened the door, Sylar was there, and she couldn't' help but think about her dream again. She wanted to close the door again, to slam it in his face and run away, but she couldn't. He had done nothing wrong. Well, he had done _something_ wrong, but not today.

"What are you doing here?"

Sylar's brow creased in irritation. "What do you mean 'what am I doing here'. We're leaving. Get dressed and come on."

"Where's Peter?"

"Getting ready." The anger left his face quickly, and Sylar studied her in a concerned sort of way. "Is something wrong? You seem . . ."

"Depressed? Angry? Mortified?" Elle finished the sentence for him. "Sure. I am."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Elle groaned. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Sylar stepped in the room and closed the door behind him without saying anything. Elle had expected a sharp reply, for him to walk away and leave her alone again, but he didn't. He was actually going to talk with her. That made her feel a little better.

He took a few more steps inside and sat on the edge of her bed, looking up at her with a sincere expression on his face. "What is it, Elle?"

Elle couldn't believe it. After a whole day of arguing, Sylar was being nice to her. Maybe he actually did care. Maybe she had misjudged him. Elle shook her head to clear her mind and sat down next to him, trying her best to get as far from him as possible, and that only ended up looking awkward.

"I . . . I had a bad dream last night." She sounded like a child – a dumb, scared child. Why did she always end up sounding ridiculous?

"And?"

Elle sighed. "And you were in it. You told me that you killed me because I was a liability, and you were afraid to trust me." Sylar didn't reply. He only stared at her, forcing her to continue. "And then you apologized . . ." It was difficult to say the next few words; she paused and wet her lips before finishing. ". . . And then you killed me. Again. At least, I guess that's what you did."

Elle didn't turn her head to look at Sylar. She didn't really care what he thought of her dream. She only wanted to know the truth. If she had looked, however, she would have seen the sad, painful expression on his face. He was having a difficult time dealing with her, just as she was having a hard time dealing with him.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, and his words were not unkind.

"Because," began Elle, shifting her weight uncomfortably on the bed, "I want to know the truth. Is that really why you killed me? Are you really sorry?"

Sylar looked down at his lap, putting his hands together as if he were in deep thought. Since when did he think things through? The silence between them was awkward and unnecessary. So while Sylar thought about whatever it was he was going to say, Elle talked.

"Do you remember the time when I stopped you from killing yourself? You were lucky I showed up, huh? What if I hadn't stopped you in time? What if you had killed yourself?" Elle shuddered. "My father would still be alive, I would still be working for The Company, and you would be dead. But would my life be any better?" Sylar looked up, but Elle hardly noticed. "And when you visited my cell at Pinehearst. Do you remember that? I was so angry . . . So mad because you killed my dad. I tried to kill you, but you forgave me. You even got down on your knees and made me forgive myself. Would things be any different if I hadn't forgiven myself? Would I still be locked away at Pinehearst crying my eyes out? Sometimes you've gotta wonder--"

"What are you talking about, Elle?"

Elle shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy. Just don't listen to me." She looked him in the eyes, her face void of all emotion. She had worked so hard to push those emotions away. "Could things ever be the same between us, Gabriel?"

"No," he said simply. "Probably not."

Elle nodded. She understood. If Sylar had asked her that question, she would have said the same. They were both damaged goods, just like he had said before he had killed her. They could never change; they would always be killers. They would always be hopeless. Elle didn't want to believe it, but what else was there to believe? She had given up on hope long ago.

Sylar placed a hand on her knee, which surprised her. She didn't push it away, though. "But I am sorry, Elle. For everything."

Elle managed a smile and watched as Sylar stood up and walked towards the door. Once he had opened it, he turned around to look back at her again.

"Now hurry up and get ready or me and Peter will have you leave you behind."

The emotional moment between them had passed. Elle was grateful for that. Moments like that only came every once and a while between people; that's what made them special. But now that Sylar was back to his old self, Elle didn't mind.

He cast her one last smile before walking out the door, saying as he went, "We're leaving in ten."

After Elle had packed her things, it had been twenty minutes, but Peter and Sylar didn't seem to mind it too much. She knew they had been bluffing. They needed her. After handing in their keys and leaving the motel, Sylar went straight to their stolen Porsche. At least he wasn't thinking about stealing _another_ car. The day long ride to Virginia would be a long one, quite possibly the longest car ride any of them had taken. And they weren't exactly a friendly bunch. What with the endless arguments and bickering, they may never reach their destination.

Peter finally managed the courage to ask a few questions, most of which had to do with Sylar and Elle's working relationship. Elle answered each one of them with a quick lie. Lucky for them, Peter didn't catch on. He was too preoccupied with coming up with the next question.

"Are you still working for The Company?" That question was directed at Elle, and it took her a moment to answer.

"Uh . . . No. Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

Elle spun around in the passenger's seat to face him. "Well, I was working for Pinehearst, but I quit."

"Quit?"

"Would you quit questioning me?" she snapped. "I quit, okay? And so did Sylar. We don't work for anyone."

Peter smirked. Obviously she was avoiding the question. "I think there's more to the story."

"Well . . . If you must know." Elle glanced at Sylar briefly. It seemed as if he weren't paying attention to their conversation, so she went on. "Sylar kinda killed me. Maybe. Sorta. But it's not a big deal, right? Just an everyday occurrence in our world of 'having powers'."

Peter's eyes widened. "He killed you?"

Sylar _had_ been listening to their conversation. He slammed on the brakes, causing a build up of traffic behind them. "Elle!"

"Would you speed up? You're causing a traffic jam."

Sylar growled, but Elle wasn't scared of him anymore. The threat had no effect. "Shut up." He glanced over his shoulder, looking back at Peter. "Don't listen to her. She's delusional."

"Fair enough," Peter said, laughing softly. Maybe Sylar did kill Elle. Maybe he didn't. Either way, he didn't want to know.


	5. The Diner

**Author's Note: **I am _so_ sorry for the late update! School and sports have kept me very busy these past few weeks. I'll try and update as soon as I can (which will probably be weekly from now on), so check back frequently. I never give up on my stories. I'd also like to thank everyone who's submitted a review – they make my day! Please don't be shy; write up a comment. Enjoy chapter five.

ECLIPSED

Chapter Five: The Diner

Peter slept through most of the ride, occasionally opening his eyes to make sure they were headed in the right direction. He still had a difficult time trusting Sylar and Elle. Sylar had tried to kill him three times, and Elle hadn't exactly been "nice" to him while he had been a prisoner at Primatech. With all that had happened between them, who _would_ put their trust in the two?

Instead of talking constantly like Elle, or snapping back harsh replies like Sylar, Peter ignored them both, leaning against the car door to catch up on some sleep. Last night had taken it's toll on him; staying in the same room as Sylar hadn't been pleasant. He had been afraid to close his eyes, least of fall asleep. What if Sylar had decided to kill him while he slept? With Elle here, he probably wouldn't bother killing him now. At least, that's what Peter liked to think. But, then again, this could all just be one big plot to get rid of him, and Elle could be an accomplice.

Peter took the opportunity to think about things – things that mostly had to do with Sylar and Elle. If they were planning on doing away with him, how could he possibly stop them without his powers? Even if he could somehow locate a weapon, Sylar couldn't die. Peter wasn't in control of his own life at the moment. It was in the hands of a serial-killer. A serial-killer that had never really liked him to begin with. And now that Sylar knew that Peter wasn't his brother, their rivalry would only get worse.

And then there was Elle. Peter felt bad for using her like he had done during his imprisonment, but he was still mad at her. There were plenty of reasons for him to be angry with her. She had flirted with him for her own personal gain (mostly), and she had killed his old girlfriend's brother. They hadn't exactly managed to build a friendship; she had burned that bridge. But still . . . He should still apologize, right? Wasn't that the mature thing to do? He had to be the bigger person, like his brother used to tell him. The bigger person. Peter laughed at that.

"What are you laughing about?" Elle snapped, apparently in a bad mood.

Peter shifted in his seat, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He had laughed out loud – the first thing he had done or said in the past few hours. What had he expected? To be ignored? That wouldn't happen. Not with Elle in the car. "Nothing. I was just thinking about something." A reply was required in this situation.

Elle turned around in her seat – unbuckled – and peered back at him. "Well, don't laugh at me," she started, raising her hand. A current of electricity raced along her palm in a threatening sort of way, "or I'll make sure you never laugh again."

Peter's eyes widened involuntarily, and he lifted up a hand to shield his eyes against the blinding blue light in front of him. Elle didn't really scare him, but he couldn't help but be wary. She was insane, after all.

"Elle," Sylar cut in, stopping her. She put down her hand with a smirk and turned back around in her seat, leaving Peter to watch her in stunned silence. He hadn't expected Sylar to interfere.

It began to rain immediately after their short conversation – a heavy, loud rain that prevented Peter from catching up on anymore sleep. The storm only worsened, forcing Sylar to pull over. They would have to wait it out. Luckily he had pulled into a local diner. They were all starving, and when Elle didn't get a bite to eat, bad things usually happened . . .

The restaurant wasn't too crowded; it wasn't popular. The perfect place for criminals on the run to get some lunch. As soon as they sat down, Sylar got back up again and headed to the bathroom, saying that he hadn't been in days. Elle rolled her eyes and gave him a disgusted look, trying to avoid Peter's gaze as soon as he was gone. When he didn't immediately return, Peter started up a conversation.

"Hey, I'm sorry about what happened at The Company." He had to be the bigger person.

Elle looked up. "What do you mean, sorry? What did you do?"

"So you're not mad at me?"

"Well, I don't really remember . . ." Elle trailed off and her blue eyes brightened. "You mean the way you used me to escape? Yeah, I remember that." Who could forget?

Peter put his hands on the table casually, causing Elle to flinch and move hers to her lap. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me. I flirted with you, so I guess we're even." She took a deep breath to regain her composure and gave him a fake-looking smile. Peter returned it with one of his own.

"Yeah. I guess we're even."

Peter hadn't expected it to be so easy. Elle was a complicated individual – different than most women he had met. He had anticipated an argument, a shouting match. Elle had surprised him again. She had changed since he had seen her last.

"Did Sylar really kill you?" Peter said randomly. He had been thinking a lot about what they had said earlier, and he had never received a straightforward answer. Truthfully, he had been afraid to ask in front of Sylar. And even though Peter didn't want to know, there was still that nagging feeling at the back of his mind, begging him to ask – to know the truth.

Elle just looked at him, her face expressionless. After a moment of silence, she smirked. "I thought you didn't want to know."

"I . . . Well, Sylar denied it. I want the truth."

The smirk suddenly faded, replaced by something else. It was a mixture of emotions that Peter couldn't identify. Guilt, sadness, pain . . . What was Elle thinking? In that moment, Peter wished he was a mind-reader. Why did he have to lose his powers?

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, Elle," Peter pursued. "Maybe I can help you."

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Elle snarled, raising her hand out of habit. She realized her mistake instantly and lowered her arm. A display of powers in public could lead to nowhere good. She sighed. "Just don't ask me again, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Alright."

If Elle didn't want to talk about it, Peter couldn't force her to. He wasn't that kind of person. Even though the nagging feeling was still there, he couldn't do anything about it, and so he forced it to go away for the time being. Maybe he would learn the truth later, but not now.

Sylar still hadn't returned, so Elle left Peter and his questions and ordered their food. The two of them sat in silence – an uncomfortable silence, until Sylar finally returned. Soon after, the food arrived and the three of them ate quietly. When it was clear that the silence would never end until someone spoke up (and when she couldn't handle it any longer), Elle brought up a rather interesting subject.

"What are we gonna do once we get to Richmond?"

Sylar hadn't thought about it. And, apparently, neither had Peter. They cast each other puzzled glances – looking a lot like the ignorant men that Elle had always thought them to be – and didn't immediately reply. When Elle became persistent, they had no choice but to answer her.

"I don't know." It was Sylar who spoke, having finally finished his sandwich. "I haven't really thought about it."

Elle rolled her eyes. "You two never think."

"It's none of your business anyways."

"Actually, it is," Peter interjected., standing up for Elle. "She could help us. Elle is tougher than you think."

"I don't need your help, Peter," Elle snapped. "I was handling the situation just fine on my own. Besides, Sylar knows how capable I am. He just won't admit it." She glanced at him quickly before turning her blue eyes back towards Peter. Neither of the men said anything. They had both managed to stealthily avoid her question. "So I guess I'll have to come up with a plan on my own. Maybe we could try a sneak attack? I've heard those work pretty well."

Sylar narrowed his eyes, making his eyebrows look bushier than normal. It was a funny sight, in Elle's opinion. "I can handle this on my own, Elle. I don't need your input."

"Sure you do. I'm good at making decisions. Better than you, at least."

"I don't think--"

"_Holy shit_!" Elle cut him off, her eyes widening as her gaze drifted behind them, and the sound of glass shattering caused them all to jump. Sylar and Peter both spun around quickly to see what she was looking at, and they shouted curses of their own when they caught sight of what had attracted her attention. A black van had drifted from the parking lot and rammed into the side of the building, running through the restaurant completely. A few stunned customers lay on the floor nearby, either injured or having narrowly escaped death. Half of the diner had been taken out, replaced by the front of the vehicle.

Sylar, Peter, and Elle jumped from their seats simultaneously, as did the other customers on their side of the restaurant. The manager (at least, that's what he looked like) was already screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding that the driver of the van call the cops and pay for the damages. He didn't seem to care about his customers. All hell suddenly broke loose in the restaurant. Everyone finally realized what had happened. Several citizens fled the building completely. Some decided to stick around and see what would happen, probably too curious or too stupid to do anything else.

After what seemed like hours of mayhem, the driver finally opened up the car door and stepped out. It was a woman - the woman who had literally destroyed the restaurant. She ignored the manager, instead averting her attention to Peter. Then spoke in calm, even tones, not at all like she had almost killed them all.

"You must be Peter."

Peter, Sylar, Elle, and several other customers only stared at her, their eyes wide with either shock, fright, or disbelief. Things only got worse when a man stepped out of the car behind her, taking up a position by her side. Who were they? For what reason did they suddenly decide to ram their vehicle into the side of a restaurant? And what the hell were they doing there?

As if reading their minds, she spoke up again. "We're here to kill you."

* * *

"Can we really trust Arthur?"

Nathan didn't know the answer to Tracy's question. He had asked himself the same thing over and over again for the past twenty-four hours. Could his father be trusted? Could Nathan put his trust in him after all he had done?

"I don't know," he replied uncertainly, turning down the volume on the car radio.

Nathan Petrelli and Tracy Strauss had left the Pinehearst building before Peter could get to them, and now they were on the road. After having received an "urgent" request to meet up with Arthur and the others in Richmond, the two had teamed up. After all they had been through together, with Nathan acting as a senator of New York, and with Tracy as his advisor, what better team could there be? They traveled faster than Peter, Sylar, and Elle, probably because Nathan seemed to always get away with speeding. Tracy didn't mind; she wanted to arrive on time just as much as Nathan did. They thought alike, as Tracy sometimes pointed out. And now she stressed that fact more than before.

"You don't know? That's not a very convincing answer. But I don't know if we can trust him either."

Nathan turned to look at her, surprised. "You don't trust him? I thought you . . ."

"I don't know who to trust anymore, Nathan," Tracy cut in. "I don't think I can trust anyone. I don't even know why I came along."

"Was it because you trusted me?"

Tracy met his gaze, her eyes cold certain. "No."

Nathan narrowed his eyes and averted his attention to the busy road ahead of them. "Traffic," he said absent-mindedly, trying to change the subject. Tracy merely crossed her arms and sat in silence. The conversation had ended.

Instead of stopping at a hotel to catch up on sleep, the two drove straight through the night. When either of them had their mind set on something, there was no stopping them. That's what you got when you combined two political minds. And even though the pairing had it's difficulties, they somehow managed to work together effortlessly . . . most of the time.

When they were still a ways from Richmond, Tracy insisted they stop for gas. It may be the last gas station they passed for a while. Nathan, being the bossy, hard-headed man that he was, refused, saying that there had to be another station up ahead.

Of course, the car ran out of gas, trapping them in the middle of nowhere. Luckily there was no more traffic. That would have only made things worse.

"I told you to stop," Tracy said matter-of-factly, sighing when the vehicle ground to a stop. "Now what?"

Nathan let his hands fall to his lap, forcing a calm demeanor. "I can fix this." When Tracy gave him a dirty look, he added, "Calm down. I'll get us there."

Tracy didn't say anything else, preferring to keep quiet. There was nothing more she could say or do to help the situation. Nathan was a hopeless cause; he never listened.

Nathan fixed his tie and took a look at himself in the rear-view mirror before hopping out of the car. Tracy watched as he took up a stance by the car and set about waving his arm in the air. He was going to hitch a ride. Perfect. Just perfect. Tracy leaned back in her chair and waited. There was nothing she could do to stop him. They were going to hitch a ride to Richmond, Virginia, whether she wanted to or not. Nathan was so . . . Well, he was Nathan, and that was all there was to it.

It took about half an hour, but a truck finally stopped and pulled over. Tracy grabbed her purse and hopped out of the car to stand beside Nathan. An older man, probably in his late forties or early fifties, opened the car door and made his way towards them. Tracy couldn't help but notice that he appeared to be on edge about something. She wouldn't push the subject, though.

"Car troubles?" the man asked, even though it was obvious. He wore a simple outfit – a t-shirt and blue jeans, probably just a normal local. There was nothing suspicious about him, which was a good thing after all they had been through.

"We ran out of gas," Nathan spoke up, taking a step forward to shake the man's hand. "I'm Nathan Petrelli."

"Jacob Simmons," the stranger announced, nodding politely. "Aren't you that senator from New York?" Of course he knew who Nathan was. He had been one of the main subjects on national news broadcasts lately. Everyone knew Nathan Petrelli. "Nathan Petrelli? The one who died and came back to life?"

"Yes," said Nathan simply, "I am."

Jacob Simmons didn't seem to care who he was; to him, he was just like any other person with car troubles. "Need a ride?"

"Yes," Tracy spoke up from behind Nathan, "to Richmond."

"Richmond? I can take you there."

Nathan managed a smile. "Thank you so much. We could never repay you."

Jacob returned his smile with a wide grin of his own. "No problem. Actually, I was hoping I would find someone to talk to about what happened to me earlier today."

"Really?" Nathan inquired uninterestedly.

"Yeah. You'll never believe it, though. I was just grabbing a bite to eat at the diner and all hell broke loose."

"Really?" Nathan repeated. He didn't care what had happened to the man earlier that day, but he might as well be polite. "You'll have to tell me what happened at this diner of yours."

**Author's Note: **I am _so_ sorry for the late update! School and sports have kept me very busy these past few weeks. I'll try and update as soon as I can (which will probably be weekly from now on), so check back frequently. I never give up on my stories. I'd also like to thank everyone who's submitted a review – they make my day! Please don't be shy; write up a comment. Enjoy chapter five.

ECLIPSED

Chapter Five: The Diner

Peter slept through most of the ride, occasionally opening his eyes to make sure they were headed in the right direction. He still had a difficult time trusting Sylar and Elle. Sylar had tried to kill him three times, and Elle hadn't exactly been "nice" to him while he had been a prisoner at Primatech. With all that had happened between them, who _would_ put their trust in the two?

Instead of talking constantly like Elle, or snapping back harsh replies like Sylar, Peter ignored them both, leaning against the car door to catch up on some sleep. Last night had taken it's toll on him; staying in the same room as Sylar hadn't been pleasant. He had been afraid to close his eyes, least of fall asleep. What if Sylar had decided to kill him while he slept? With Elle here, he probably wouldn't bother killing him now. At least, that's what Peter liked to think. But, then again, this could all just be one big plot to get rid of him, and Elle could be an accomplice.

Peter took the opportunity to think about things – things that mostly had to do with Sylar and Elle. If they were planning on doing away with him, how could he possibly stop them without his powers? Even if he could somehow locate a weapon, Sylar couldn't die. Peter wasn't in control of his own life at the moment. It was in the hands of a serial-killer. A serial-killer that had never really liked him to begin with. And now that Sylar knew that Peter wasn't his brother, their rivalry would only get worse.

And then there was Elle. Peter felt bad for using her like he had done during his imprisonment, but he was still mad at her. There were plenty of reasons for him to be angry with her. She had flirted with him for her own personal gain (mostly), and she had killed his old girlfriend's brother. They hadn't exactly managed to build a friendship; she had burned that bridge. But still . . . He should still apologize, right? Wasn't that the mature thing to do? He had to be the bigger person, like his brother used to tell him. The bigger person. Peter laughed at that.

"What are you laughing about?" Elle snapped, apparently in a bad mood.

Peter shifted in his seat, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He had laughed out loud – the first thing he had done or said in the past few hours. What had he expected? To be ignored? That wouldn't happen. Not with Elle in the car. "Nothing. I was just thinking about something." A reply was required in this situation.

Elle turned around in her seat – unbuckled – and peered back at him. "Well, don't laugh at me," she started, raising her hand. A current of electricity raced along her palm in a threatening sort of way, "or I'll make sure you never laugh again."

Peter's eyes widened involuntarily, and he lifted up a hand to shield his eyes against the blinding blue light in front of him. Elle didn't really scare him, but he couldn't help but be wary. She was insane, after all.

"Elle," Sylar cut in, stopping her. She put down her hand with a smirk and turned back around in her seat, leaving Peter to watch her in stunned silence. He hadn't expected Sylar to interfere.

It began to rain immediately after their short conversation – a heavy, loud rain that prevented Peter from catching up on anymore sleep. The storm only worsened, forcing Sylar to pull over. They would have to wait it out. Luckily he had pulled into a local diner. They were all starving, and when Elle didn't get a bite to eat, bad things usually happened . . .

The restaurant wasn't too crowded; it wasn't popular. The perfect place for criminals on the run to get some lunch. As soon as they sat down, Sylar got back up again and headed to the bathroom, saying that he hadn't been in days. Elle rolled her eyes and gave him a disgusted look, trying to avoid Peter's gaze as soon as he was gone. When he didn't immediately return, Peter started up a conversation.

"Hey, I'm sorry about what happened at The Company." He had to be the bigger person.

Elle looked up. "What do you mean, sorry? What did you do?"

"So you're not mad at me?"

"Well, I don't really remember . . ." Elle trailed off and her blue eyes brightened. "You mean the way you used me to escape? Yeah, I remember that." Who could forget?

Peter put his hands on the table casually, causing Elle to flinch and move hers to her lap. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me. I flirted with you, so I guess we're even." She took a deep breath to regain her composure and gave him a fake-looking smile. Peter returned it with one of his own.

"Yeah. I guess we're even."

Peter hadn't expected it to be so easy. Elle was a complicated individual – different than most women he had met. He had anticipated an argument, a shouting match. Elle had surprised him again. She had changed since he had seen her last.

"Did Sylar really kill you?" Peter said randomly. He had been thinking a lot about what they had said earlier, and he had never received a straightforward answer. Truthfully, he had been afraid to ask in front of Sylar. And even though Peter didn't want to know, there was still that nagging feeling at the back of his mind, begging him to ask – to know the truth.

Elle just looked at him, her face expressionless. After a moment of silence, she smirked. "I thought you didn't want to know."

"I . . . Well, Sylar denied it. I want the truth."

The smirk suddenly faded, replaced by something else. It was a mixture of emotions that Peter couldn't identify. Guilt, sadness, pain . . . What was Elle thinking? In that moment, Peter wished he was a mind-reader. Why did he have to lose his powers?

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, Elle," Peter pursued. "Maybe I can help you."

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Elle snarled, raising her hand out of habit. She realized her mistake instantly and lowered her arm. A display of powers in public could lead to nowhere good. She sighed. "Just don't ask me again, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Alright."

If Elle didn't want to talk about it, Peter couldn't force her to. He wasn't that kind of person. Even though the nagging feeling was still there, he couldn't do anything about it, and so he forced it to go away for the time being. Maybe he would learn the truth later, but not now.

Sylar still hadn't returned, so Elle left Peter and his questions and ordered their food. The two of them sat in silence – an uncomfortable silence, until Sylar finally returned. Soon after, the food arrived and the three of them ate quietly. When it was clear that the silence would never end until someone spoke up (and when she couldn't handle it any longer), Elle brought up a rather interesting subject.

"What are we gonna do once we get to Richmond?"

Sylar hadn't thought about it. And, apparently, neither had Peter. They cast each other puzzled glances – looking a lot like the ignorant men that Elle had always thought them to be – and didn't immediately reply. When Elle became persistent, they had no choice but to answer her.

"I don't know." It was Sylar who spoke, having finally finished his sandwich. "I haven't really thought about it."

Elle rolled her eyes. "You two never think."

"It's none of your business anyways."

"Actually, it is," Peter interjected., standing up for Elle. "She could help us. Elle is tougher than you think."

"I don't need your help, Peter," Elle snapped. "I was handling the situation just fine on my own. Besides, Sylar knows how capable I am. He just won't admit it." She glanced at him quickly before turning her blue eyes back towards Peter. Neither of the men said anything. They had both managed to stealthily avoid her question. "So I guess I'll have to come up with a plan on my own. Maybe we could try a sneak attack? I've heard those work pretty well."

Sylar narrowed his eyes, making his eyebrows look bushier than normal. It was a funny sight, in Elle's opinion. "I can handle this on my own, Elle. I don't need your input."

"Sure you do. I'm good at making decisions. Better than you, at least."

"I don't think--"

"_Holy shit_!" Elle cut him off, her eyes widening as her gaze drifted behind them, and the sound of glass shattering caused them all to jump. Sylar and Peter both spun around quickly to see what she was looking at, and they shouted curses of their own when they caught sight of what had attracted her attention. A black van had drifted from the parking lot and rammed into the side of the building, running through the restaurant completely. A few stunned customers lay on the floor nearby, either injured or having narrowly escaped death. Half of the diner had been taken out, replaced by the front of the vehicle.

Sylar, Peter, and Elle jumped from their seats simultaneously, as did the other customers on their side of the restaurant. The manager (at least, that's what he looked like) was already screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding that the driver of the van call the cops and pay for the damages. He didn't seem to care about his customers. All hell suddenly broke loose in the restaurant. Everyone finally realized what had happened. Several citizens fled the building completely. Some decided to stick around and see what would happen, probably too curious or too stupid to do anything else.

After what seemed like hours of mayhem, the driver finally opened up the car door and stepped out. It was a woman - the woman who had literally destroyed the restaurant. She ignored the manager, instead averting her attention to Peter. Then spoke in calm, even tones, not at all like she had almost killed them all.

"You must be Peter."

Peter, Sylar, Elle, and several other customers only stared at her, their eyes wide with either shock, fright, or disbelief. Things only got worse when a man stepped out of the car behind her, taking up a position by her side. Who were they? For what reason did they suddenly decide to ram their vehicle into the side of a restaurant? And what the hell were they doing there?

As if reading their minds, she spoke up again. "We're here to kill you."

* * *

"Can we really trust Arthur?"

Nathan didn't know the answer to Tracy's question. He had asked himself the same thing over and over again for the past twenty-four hours. Could his father be trusted? Could Nathan put his trust in him after all he had done?

"I don't know," he replied uncertainly, turning down the volume on the car radio.

Nathan Petrelli and Tracy Strauss had left the Pinehearst building before Peter could get to them, and now they were on the road. After having received an "urgent" request to meet up with Arthur and the others in Richmond, the two had teamed up. After all they had been through together, with Nathan acting as a senator of New York, and with Tracy as his advisor, what better team could there be? They traveled faster than Peter, Sylar, and Elle, probably because Nathan seemed to always get away with speeding. Tracy didn't mind; she wanted to arrive on time just as much as Nathan did. They thought alike, as Tracy sometimes pointed out. And now she stressed that fact more than before.

"You don't know? That's not a very convincing answer. But I don't know if we can trust him either."

Nathan turned to look at her, surprised. "You don't trust him? I thought you . . ."

"I don't know who to trust anymore, Nathan," Tracy cut in. "I don't think I can trust anyone. I don't even know why I came along."

"Was it because you trusted me?"

Tracy met his gaze, her eyes cold certain. "No."

Nathan narrowed his eyes and averted his attention to the busy road ahead of them. "Traffic," he said absent-mindedly, trying to change the subject. Tracy merely crossed her arms and sat in silence. The conversation had ended.

Instead of stopping at a hotel to catch up on sleep, the two drove straight through the night. When either of them had their mind set on something, there was no stopping them. That's what you got when you combined two political minds. And even though the pairing had it's difficulties, they somehow managed to work together effortlessly . . . most of the time.

When they were still a ways from Richmond, Tracy insisted they stop for gas. It may be the last gas station they passed for a while. Nathan, being the bossy, hard-headed man that he was, refused, saying that there had to be another station up ahead.

Of course, the car ran out of gas, trapping them in the middle of nowhere. Luckily there was no more traffic. That would have only made things worse.

"I told you to stop," Tracy said matter-of-factly, sighing when the vehicle ground to a stop. "Now what?"

Nathan let his hands fall to his lap, forcing a calm demeanor. "I can fix this." When Tracy gave him a dirty look, he added, "Calm down. I'll get us there."

Tracy didn't say anything else, preferring to keep quiet. There was nothing more she could say or do to help the situation. Nathan was a hopeless cause; he never listened.

Nathan fixed his tie and took a look at himself in the rear-view mirror before hopping out of the car. Tracy watched as he took up a stance by the car and set about waving his arm in the air. He was going to hitch a ride. Perfect. Just perfect. Tracy leaned back in her chair and waited. There was nothing she could do to stop him. They were going to hitch a ride to Richmond, Virginia, whether she wanted to or not. Nathan was so . . . Well, he was Nathan, and that was all there was to it.

It took about half an hour, but a truck finally stopped and pulled over. Tracy grabbed her purse and hopped out of the car to stand beside Nathan. An older man, probably in his late forties or early fifties, opened the car door and made his way towards them. Tracy couldn't help but notice that he appeared to be on edge about something. She wouldn't push the subject, though.

"Car troubles?" the man asked, even though it was obvious. He wore a simple outfit – a t-shirt and blue jeans, probably just a normal local. There was nothing suspicious about him, which was a good thing after all they had been through.

"We ran out of gas," Nathan spoke up, taking a step forward to shake the man's hand. "I'm Nathan Petrelli."

"Jacob Simmons," the stranger announced, nodding politely. "Aren't you that senator from New York?" Of course he knew who Nathan was. He had been one of the main subjects on national news broadcasts lately. Everyone knew Nathan Petrelli. "Nathan Petrelli? The one who died and came back to life?"

"Yes," said Nathan simply, "I am."

Jacob Simmons didn't seem to care who he was; to him, he was just like any other person with car troubles. "Need a ride?"

"Yes," Tracy spoke up from behind Nathan, "to Richmond."

"Richmond? I can take you there."

Nathan managed a smile. "Thank you so much. We could never repay you."

Jacob returned his smile with a wide grin of his own. "No problem. Actually, I was hoping I would find someone to talk to about what happened to me earlier today."

"Really?" Nathan inquired uninterestedly.

"Yeah. You'll never believe it, though. I was just grabbing a bite to eat at the diner and all hell broke loose."

"Really?" Nathan repeated. He didn't care what had happened to the man earlier that day, but he might as well be polite. "You'll have to tell me what happened at this diner of yours."


	6. Monsters

**Author's Note:** Well, I wrote out this chapter faster than normal, so I guess that's a good thing. I feel like it's not as good as it should be . . . but whatever. I couldn't figure out how to make it any better. These two scenes were tough ones, seeing how I'm no good at action sequences, and my "drama" is lacking. Anyways . . . enjoy!

---

ECLIPSED

Chapter Six: Monsters

"_You must be Peter . . . We're here to kill you."_

Peter's brow creased and he reached into his jacket pocket, gripping his concealed gun. It was in circumstances like these that Peter wished he had his powers back. Sure, being "special" wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but a gun wasn't going to stand a chance against whoever these people were. They seemed . . . dangerous. And why run a car into the side of a diner and threaten to kill him if they weren't a threat? Who would go to all that trouble?

Looking over his shoulder, Peter remembered that he had Sylar and Elle on his side. Maybe having them at his back wasn't such a bad thing after all. With their combined abilities, they could win this fight.

"Who are you?" Peter asked, glancing quickly from the dark-haired woman to the tall man at her side. "Who are you working for?" He couldn't help but think of his father. Arthur probably wanted him dead after what had happened at Pinehearst. Peter couldn't blame him.

The woman moved forward, her red heels clicking with each step. "We're not telling."

Sylar stepped in front of Peter, his eyes dark and malicious. "Why not?"

His murderous gaze didn't frighten the young woman at all. "Because we were told not to." Her male counterpart followed closely behind her, allowing her to do all the talking. "Well, technically we were told not to tell you who we worked for, so I guess we could tell you our names before we kill you. I'm Amber." She gestured behind her with a hand. "This is Gavin."

Peter pulled out his gun in a flash of metal, pointing it at the woman's chest. "Cut the crap. Tell me who you work for or I'll shoot you."

By that point in time, every customer who had chose to remain in the diner gasped, suddenly fearing for their lives. It was a late reaction that went unnoticed by Peter and the others. The manager was long gone.

"Shoot me?" Amber's pretty face broke into a wide grin. "You don't have the guts. I know all about you, Peter."

"You don't know anything."

"Sure I do," she continued, not at all phased by the pointed weapon. "You were a nurse in New York City until just recently, spending every day of your life in your brother's shadow. Then you discovered your power and you wanted to be 'one of the good guys' and 'save the world'." Peter's frown faded, replaced by a curious expression. Amber took it as a sign to go on. "You almost destroyed New York City, so your big brother had to come and save you. After that, you were held prisoner at Primatech. Your only ally there was a blond sociopath who-"

"Ok, that's it." Elle cut her off and pushed her way past the two men. She lifted her hand, a current of electricity sparking on her palm. "You're going down, Princess."

Sylar reached forward to grab her arm, stopping her. "Elle," he said in a commanding sort of tone, "stop." Looking past her, Sylar locked eyes with Amber. "Maybe we can work this out."

Amber suddenly pulled her own gun out, pointing it threateningly at Elle. "I don't think so."

The man, Gavin (as Amber had announced), made his way to stand next to Amber instead of behind her. The two exchanged quick, unreadable glances, Amber nodded, and Gavin extended his hand. In the blink of an eye, both Sylar and Peter were pushed backwards by some invisible force. They flew a few feet away, landing with two simultaneous thuds against the diner wall. The force of Gavin's mini explosion was enough to render them both momentarily stunned. It was enough time for Amber to take out Elle with a well-aimed punch in the face.

After a minute or so, Sylar pushed himself up off the floor, quickly followed by Peter. With a flick of his hand, Sylar flung Amber against Gavin and the two collided, crashing to the ground. It seemed like the two enemies had been defeated . . . but Sylar didn't stop there. When Peter caught sight of the dangerous gleam in Sylar's eyes, he gripped his arm in an attempt to pull him out of the restaurant. Realizing that he was about to give in to the hunger, Sylar shook his head to rid himself of the unclean thoughts and turned his attention to Elle.

"Is . . . is she alright?" asked Sylar, still in a daze. It took every fiber of his being to avoid so much as a look in Gavin and Amber's direction. If he did, he was sure he would be unable to control himself.

Peter took his eyes off of Sylar reluctantly and approached Elle, kneeling down at her side. "Yeah," he answered, almost immediately, "she's fine." Peter took Elle's unconscious body up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here." Scanning the area, Peter noticed that they were alone. The other customers had long since fled.

Sylar hesitated. "What . . . what about them?" He managed a brief glance at the two other comatose bodies on the diner floor.

"Leave them."

"They were sent by Arthur. When they report back to him, he'll know you aren't traveling alone. He'll know that I'm working with you."

"If they don't report back to him at all he'll think the same thing."

Sylar raised an eyebrow. "True."

"Either way, he's gonna send more agents after us. We have to be more careful. No more pit stops." Peter walked past Sylar and opened the door. "Coming?" he called over his shoulder.

Sylar took one last look at Gavin and Amber before turning his back on them completely. "Yeah." He had controlled the hunger; that meant more to him than anything. When he had killed Elle, Sylar believed he could never change. Maybe he could. Maybe there was still hope for him. Now that Elle was alive again and he was working with Peter, perhaps things would change for the better. They all had a similar goal – to take down Arthur. It was worth a try.

The rest of the day went by slowly. As soon as they were in the car and ready to leave, Elle woke up and began asking questions, all of which Sylar answered as calmly as he could. He explained what happened at the diner after she had been knocked out, and what their plans were for the rest of the day. After getting caught up at the restaurant longer than they had expected, they would be in Richmond early in the morning. Stopping at another hotel along the way was their best option. Elle agreed, thankfully.

Sylar stopped at a hotel in mid-Virginia, still quite a ways west of Richmond. It wasn't a fabulous hotel; none of them had enough money to book a room at a decent one. It didn't matter, though. All of them had slept in worse places at some time or another. Besides, there was no use driving through the night – not when they had plenty of time to spare. There was no hurry. If they were all exhausted when they confronted Arthur, their entire mission would have been futile. They might as well get a good night's rest.

Unlike the previous night, the hotel had three rooms to spare. Personal space was something that both Sylar and Peter had been craving lately. Staying in the same room as your old enemy wasn't fun. And Elle didn't complain, either. After booking their rooms, the three of them made their way down the hallway of the second story, quickly realizing that one room was located on the eastern side of the building, and the other two were on the western side. This stirred up an argument almost immediately.

"I'm not staying on the other end of the hallway." It was Elle who spoke up first, her arms crossed as if she had the biggest say in the matter. "One of you two can, but I'm not."

Sylar smiled provocatively. "What? Are you afraid?"

"No," Elle retorted. "I just don't wanna be alone, that's all. What if I need something?"

"Like what?"

"A toothbrush, maybe. What if I forgot to pack one?"

"You didn't pack anything, Elle." Sylar was thoroughly enjoying this conversation. "None of us did. You've been wearing the same pair of clothes for two days."

"So?" Elle's blue eyes glinted with some sort of hidden evil; she was probably trying her hardest not to lose her temper and look foolish in front of the two men. Sylar could see right through her false, calm demeanor.

Peter cut in, ruining Sylar's fun. "I'll take the room, ok? Does that solve your problems?"

Elle grinned, her displeasure washed away in less than an instant. "Thanks, Peter," she piped, waving coyly as he turned his back on them and headed towards his room. As soon as he had disappeared, Elle spun around to face Sylar, a frown on her face. "What's your problem?"

"_My _problem?" he said, laughing slightly. "I think you're the one with the problem here."

"Ha! No, you don't have a problem." Elle's tone changed from furious to sarcastic, her voice going up an octave. "You don't have a problem at all. You just enjoy killing people and ruining lives. But that's not a problem at all, is it?"

It was then that Sylar noticed the bruise on her cheek. Maybe she actually was tougher than he thought, like Peter had pointed out earlier. Or maybe she had sensitive skin . . . Either way, Sylar didn't care. He discarded those thoughts.

"I don't wanna have this conversation, Elle. I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Don't you get that?"

Elle raised a hand to wipe her eye, and Sylar realized that she was fighting to hold back her tears – tears that probably should have burst to the surface days ago. "I just want the truth. That's all I ever wanted, Gabriel. The truth. Can't you just give me that?"

"What are you talking about?"

The conversation had made a turn for the worse. In had changed from snide remarks and taunts to tears and truths. Sylar couldn't handle it. He thought about turning his back on her and hiding in his room, but that wouldn't do any good. He had to face the situation at some point or another; Sylar had always avoided the truth before. Elle deserved an answer.

"You know what I'm talking about."

Sylar sighed, rubbing his temple. "I killed you . . . because you lied to me, and I couldn't stand to have you around me anymore." It was the truth in it's own, twisted way. "The way you looked at me . . . The way you flinched when I touched you . . . I knew that I was a monster, that I could never change, and I killed you." He paused, his eyes on Elle the whole time. "That's the truth, Elle. And like I told you before, I _am_ sorry. I do feel guilty for killing you. But some part of me is still saying I did the right thing. We could have never had a life together, Elle. You knew that. You still do."

In that moment, with Sylar's sad, brown eyes lingering on her face, Elle broke down. All of the pain that she had been holding back reached it's peak; she couldn't hold it in any longer. A single tear trickled down her cheek, soon followed by several more. Now that she knew the truth, Elle could no longer live in denial. She could no longer pretend like all of this had never happened, because it had. Gabriel had killed her, and now Sylar was back.

Elle covered her eyes with her hands, wiping furiously at her face to try and rid herself of the newly-formed tears. But that didn't help. Nothing would help. "I . . . No . . .No. We couldn't. You're right. We could never have a life together because . . . we're both monsters. I should . . . should have never . . ." She trailed off, lowering her head to avoid Sylar's eyes.

"Elle," he said softly, taking a step forward. "Elle, I know that saying I'm sorry isn't going to fix anything." He reached out, trying to grab her and pull her closer, but she only pushed his hand away.

"No, I'm fine." She raised her head almost proudly. "Just don't bother. I don't deserve it."

"And neither do I."

"Because we're both just monsters," Elle finished.

Sylar didn't know what to say. Several thoughts and emotions were bubbling up in his mind; he didn't know if anything he said would help at all. He had hurt Elle more than he cared to admit. But, then again, he had hurt a lot of people. Why should Elle be any different? While he struggled for an answer, Elle shook her head and sighed, running a hand through her blond hair.

"I'm tired."

Sylar nodded. "You should get some rest." It was almost as if the conversation hadn't transpired at all. Sylar was willing to forget it completely, but he knew that it would come up again soon. Elle wouldn't let it go that easy. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah."

Sylar watched her go, and he stood in the hall a few minutes after she had gone, thinking.

"_We're both just monsters."_

When had the truth ever hurt so much?


	7. Another Stop

ECLIPSED

Chapter Seven

Arthur had already begun administering the formula. As soon as the tests had been proven to be a success, he had brought in the military. It had been Nathan's idea to give powers to the United States army, and now that he had finally arrived at the facility in Richmond, his plan could be carried out. After an hour, five marines had been injected. Super-strength, spontaneous regeneration, telepathy . . . It was all possible now, thanks to the formula. Arthur's plan was set into motion.

It was time he and his accomplices held a meeting to discuss the future of Pinehearst.

They couldn't sit back and play everything by ear – not when there was so much at stake. Amber and Gavin's failure had only made things worse . . . Now their enemies were still on the loose. And to top it all off, Sylar and Elle Bishop were traveling with Peter. Arthur hadn't expected that. Something had to be done about it.

"Set a trap for them," Nathan suggested. "Post guards around the building. That'll stop Peter, at least."

Arthur wasn't convinced. "But it won't stop Sylar, and he _is_ our main concern at the moment."

"Should we really be worried about Sylar? As soon as he gets what he wants, he'll ditch Peter. What would be his motivation in killing you? Or taking the formula? That's probably not what he's after. We've got more important things to worry about."

"You're not thinking things through, Nathan," Arthur said. "Sylar doesn't need a motivation. He does whatever he pleases."

Tracy stepped into the conversation, siding with Arthur. "He's right, Nathan. Keeping this facility safe is our main priority, and if that means focusing all of our attention on Sylar . . . That's what we'll have to do."

"So send someone after him," Nathan pressed.

"We already have." Arthur sighed, running a hand over his forehead. "They failed. Taking down Sylar isn't an easy job."

Zeke, who had only been watching the others with a smile on his face until now, waved his hand. "I can do it." Arthur, Nathan, and Tracy looked at him, and he took it as a sign to go on. "Stopping time, teleporting . . . It'll be easy enough. And I have a plan."

"A plan?"

"Yeah. Coming from the future has its benefits. I have an idea that might work . . . And I'm always the one with the bright ideas."

"Fine," Arthur said, scowling. He didn't even care what Zeke's idea was, as long as he got the job done. "As long as you take care of Sylar, I really don't care what you do."

"So it's settled then," Nathan announced. "Zeke will take care of Sylar, and we'll continue work on the formula here." He turned to Tracy, crossed his arms, and added, "I want those marines injected as soon as possible."

"It'll be taking care of," Tracy replied instantly, smirking. She didn't necessarily enjoy being told what to do by Nathan, but she did love 'taking care of things'.

* * *

They arrived in Richmond early the next morning. After a quick argument, Sylar had finally agreed to let Elle drive the rest of the way. She had been bugging him about it for hours, and he was tired anyways. He hadn't had a good night's sleep, what with thoughts of Elle and their mission clouding his mind. It was all too much to sleep on.

Sylar instantly regretted his decision when Elle pulled into the nearest Wal-Mart.

Elle hopped out of the car without a word of explanation, practically slamming the car door shut behind her. Sylar followed, and Peter joined the two, a silent bystander to the argument that would most likely ensue; however, Sylar tried to hide his anger. He didn't yell or antagonize Elle. Instead, his tone calm.

"What are we doing here?"

Elle shrugged casually, as if they had all the time in the world. "I need some clothes. I don't normally shop at Wal-Mart, but this is an exception." She reached back to pick a wedgie, a scowl on her face. "And these damn boxers . . . They're itchy!"

"You're still wearing them?" Sylar raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. He hadn't realized that Elle was still wearing the clothes he had killed her in – his jacket and boxers, with a pair of jeans that she had most likely found after her resurrection thrown over them.

"Wait . . . What?" Peter scratched his head in confusion.

Elle and Sylar both ignored him.

"Yeah, obviously," Elle said. "What else was I supposed to wear?" Sylar didn't say anything, so she went on. "What? Did you want them back or something?"

"If you get back in the car, I'll let you keep them."

"Oh, yay!" Elle exclaimed sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Peter coughed, letting them know he was still there. When Elle heard him, she grinned devilishly and explained the situation, leaving out a few minor, private details.

"Sylar let me borrow his underwear. Is that such a big deal?"

"So did you guys . . ." Peter shook his head, trying to hide a smile. "Uh . . . Are we going in or what?"

"No-yes!" Sylar and Elle said simultaneously.

"No," Sylar repeated, agitated. "We can't waste anymore time. If we're gonna stop Arthur, it has to be soon. No more waiting."

Elle put her hands on her hips, determined to get what she wanted. In that moment, Sylar was reminded of the attitude she had given off when he had first met her – tough and sweet, a perfectly deadly combination. Now that the two of them had grown closer, Elle showed that side of herself more often. She narrowed her eyes and stuck out her bottom lip, which only made her look more ridiculous, and Sylar almost gave in to her demands.

"Elle-"

"Let's just go in," Peter cut him off. "What's the harm in wasting ten more minutes? Arguing isn't going to get us anywhere."

Sylar shrugged and sighed, realizing that he'd been beaten, and walked beside Peter as they made their way towards the store. Elle had parked close to the front doors, which was convenient. If they were caught or got into more trouble, they could make a quick getaway. At least Elle had actually thought of that.

As soon as Elle had picked out a new outfit, Sylar stated that they didn't have time to pay and should leave immediately. Of course, Peter didn't agree with that decision, but his opinion didn't really matter anyways. Stealing a pair of clothes wasn't a crime at all in Sylar's mind. But, then again, nothing was. Elle slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and sped away before the security guard made it out the door.

"So . . . where to?" she asked after they had all regained their breath.

**Author's Notes: **Eh, short chapter, but oh well. It sets up the next few chapters fine enough. And yes, they will encounter Arthur soon! Sorry it took so long to get this one posted. Been busy lately. Please read and review!


	8. A Mysterious Partner

ECLIPSED

Chapter Eight: A Mysterious Partner

Zeke drove a safe distance behind Sylar's vehicle. The last thing he wanted to do was raise suspicion. That would only ruin his brilliant plan – a plan that he had thought of on his own, and he was quite proud of himself. Where he came from, Zeke usually left the idea-making to his boss. In the past, he felt as though he were a god; it seemed as if everyone was afraid to strike his ideas down. Coming from the future had its privileges. With a smug grin on his face, he turned to look at the young man sitting in the passenger seat.

"You ready for some action?"

The boy was probably no more than eighteen years old, with light brown hair and dark eyes that brightened when Zeke spoke to him. He propped his elbow up on the car door and sighed, trying to decide if he really was "ready". Finally, after a few prolonged seconds, he said, "Yeah. I guess so." It wasn't a very pleasing response, but what else was there to say when you were unsure of yourself?

Zeke snorted. "You guess so? I could have jumped back in time and picked out my best men to help me take down Sylar, but I picked you. And all you can say is 'I guess so'?" He laughed softly, slapping the young man on the shoulder. "But it's OK. Newbies are always nervous."

Besides, he had hand picked the boy for a reason. It was all part of his plan. Any other man couldn't get the job done. Before he had traveled back in time, Zeke had made sure to choose the right candidate for the job. He always thought ahead.

"Yeah. Nervous," the boy muttered, and Zeke knew that it was the truth. The way he avoided eye contact and spoke quietly gave that away. But, then again, hadn't Zeke been nervous during his first mission? He couldn't really antagonize the boy for being uneasy. And this mission was going to be an extremely dangerous one, which only added to the anxiety. Even Zeke was a little afraid. Who wouldn't be?

"Don't worry. It'll be fun." Zeke had meant for his statement to be a comfort to the young man, but it came out more sarcastic than helpful.

The boy didn't seem to notice. "Who exactly are we following?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"You might freak out on me." Zeke looked away from his partner, gazing instead at the road ahead of them. "Like I said, the guy's name is Sylar. He's dangerous, and so are the people he's traveling with. I'll leave it at that for now."

"What can he do?"

"You mean, what power does he have?"

The teenager shrugged, moving his arm away from the door and straightening up. "Yeah. What power does he have?"

"Eh . . . You'll find out soon."

"So you're really not gonna tell me anything else?"

Zeke grinned, glancing quickly at the boy. "You're pretty stubborn, aren't you?" Suddenly, he slammed on the gas pedal, speeding up dangerously close to the back bumper of Sylar's car. That gave their targets no choice but to swerve and pull into the empty parking lot on the right. It was lucky they were in the middle of town instead of a crowded highway, or all of them would have been in trouble.

"I guess you're about to find out," Zeke said, pulling over behind them. He unbuckled, switched off the ignition, and opened the car door all in one fluid motion. "Stay here until I give you a signal." When his partner unbuckled, preparing to disobey his boss's orders and hop out of the car behind him, Zeke added, "Don't worry. This'll get interesting soon enough," and slammed the car door shut. That gave the boy no choice but to sit back, relax, and stay put.

* * *

"773 North Garrison Road," Peter read aloud from the crumpled slip of paper.

"North Garrison Road?" questioned Elle, taking her eyes off the road to glance behind her at Peter. "That's only a few miles from here."

Sylar turned his head to look at her, suddenly intrigued by the conversation. "How do you know?"

"I've been here before," she said. "It was a couple years ago, but I remember it. I was here on a mission . . . with Bennet. We took down a telepathic on North Garrison Road. I guess I just now thought of it."

"Wait . . . Noah Bennet? What were you doing working with him?"

Elle didn't say anything for a while. For some reason, she didn't want to tell Sylar what she had to say. When he continued to stare at her, however, she cracked. "He used to be my partner. I trusted him . . . until he turned into a self-serving bastard."

Sylar seemed pleased by her answer. He smiled and looked away from her, not bothering to say anything else. Behind him, Peter crumpled up the slip of paper again and slid it into his pocket, leaning back against his seat.

"I take it you're not a friend of Noah?" Peter asked, probably trying to make conversation. He didn't like silence.

Elle shook her head. "No. Definitely not. I don't see how anyone could like him now."

"He's not half bad."

"That's your opinion." Elle could never trust Bennet or The Company again. Not after what they had done to her. The subject had obviously been dropped, so Elle relaxed. Out of habit, she glanced at her rear view mirror. "There's a car following us."

Sylar glanced at his own mirror. "I noticed that a half hour ago."

"It's probably one of Arthur's agents. And if they're half as bad as the last two he sent after us, I think we'll be fine." Saying that didn't make the situation any better, though. Elle kept glancing at the mirror, only to find the black convertible staring back at her. It was still a good distance away – probably twenty feet or so – but that didn't matter. They were being followed. Elle didn't exactly know how to handle a situation like that, and neither Sylar nor Peter seemed ready to offer her any advice.

So she kept driving, with both hands on the wheel instead of one, being extra cautious. After about ten minutes of constant worry, Elle looked over to find Sylar snoring peacefully with his head against the window. What a trooper . . . Behind her, Peter shuffled in his seat and sniffed. At least he was still awake. He was probably just as worried as she was, and that made her feel better.

The silence distracted Elle, and she found herself thinking in "whats" and "ifs". What if whoever was following them decided to floor it and ram into them? Or came up beside them and pushed them off the road? They could die. But did death really frighten her? Elle liked to think it didn't. She had been dead before, and it hadn't been that bad. Actually, it had been kind of pleasant. A warm, welcoming darkness.

But, then again, death could also be a bad thing. What if she died again and no one missed her? What if no one even realized she was gone . . . or cared. The only people who cared for her even remotely were Peter and Sylar, but they would be dead, too. No one else would notice her absence. And if they did notice it, for whatever reason, they would be happy she was gone. Elle hadn't exactly made too many friends.

Elle snapped out of her reverie. Death was a stupid thing to be thinking about. Why she had allowed herself to wander into a state of such empty thoughts was beyond her. She yawned and stretched her arms (one at a time) and wiped her eyes to wake herself fully. Like Sylar, she hadn't had a good night's sleep in days. She was about to lapse into another absent-minded state when she thought to take a look at the rear view mirror again. Afterwards, she was happy she had thought to look, for the mysterious black car was flying towards them.

Elle gave the wheel a sharp turn and flung the car into the entrance of an empty parking lot to the right. The sudden movement woke up Sylar and pushed Peter against the car door. His head hit the window with a loud smack, causing Elle to grimace.

"What the . . ." Sylar began, spinning around completely to look at the car behind them. "Pull over," he demanded, unbuckling his seat belt. Elle did as she was told, stopping the car and jumping out of the vehicle behind Sylar. Like usual, Peter followed the two.

The black car ground to a halt as well, parking a ways away from Sylar and the others. That gave them time to discuss the situation before jumping into more trouble.

"If it is one of Arthur's agents, we'll have to work together to take him down," Sylar said, more of a fact than a suggestion.

Elle and Peter both nodded, and out of the corner of his eye Sylar saw Peter draw a gun from his pocket and hide it behind his back.

"Here he comes," Elle whispered. "Get ready."

A man (apparently one of Arthur's agents) calmly exited the black vehicle. He had a quick conversation with his partner inside. Sylar couldn't catch a glimpse of his partner, however, because the car was turned completely around. The agent slammed the car door shut behind him and approached Sylar, Elle, and Peter with an expression of determination on his face. That made Sylar sick. The agent couldn't possibly think himself talented enough to take him on.

"What do you want?" Sylar asked, not at all phased by the man's appearance. He stuck his hands in his pockets and took a step in front of Peter and Elle as if to protect them.

The man ignored Sylar's question. "You're Sylar, right?" He grinned, also taking a step closer. "I'm Zeke."

Elle pushed Sylar out of the way, bringing up her hand to create an arc of threatening, blue electricity. "What the hell do you want?"

"Well, _I_ don't want anything, but Arthur does. And I'm supposed to bring you to him." Zeke reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, pointing it at Sylar's chest.

"How do you plan on doing that?" Sylar smirked, flicked his wrist, and he sent the gun flying across the parking lot.

Zeke didn't seem frightened. He laughed softly and gestured towards his car. "I brought my partner, and I'm pretty sure he can take you on."

"Really now?"

Zeke turned his back on Sylar, a very foolish thing to do, and made his way towards the car, opening the door and saying something to his partner inside. Sylar caught a good glimpse of the unknown partner when he closed the passenger door and stepped outside. It was a young man, probably about eighteen years old, with features that caught Sylar by surprise. Light-colored hair, brown eyes . . . He wasn't just any average boy, but Sylar didn't know why. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was off about this kid.

Zeke's partner locked gazes with Sylar for the first time, and his eyes widened in shock. Mouth agape, the boy broke into a brisk walk. When he stood in front of Sylar, he finally gathered up the nerve to speak.

"Dad?"

Sylar was too shocked to move or say anything at all. Instead he just stood there, frozen.

The boy looked past Sylar at Peter and Elle.

"Mom?"

Behind him, Sylar heard Peter inhale sharply and Elle gasped, practically shouting, "Holy shit!"

---

**Author's Notes: **Some of you are probably wondering how little Noah fits into this time line. Because Zeke went back in time and saved Arthur's life by bringing Elle back, the entire future was altered. Therefore, Noah exists. Yes, you technical people are probably confused, but deal with it. It will all be explained soon enough.

Anyways, I know this chapter was brief, but I had a fun time writing it. The next chapter will be a good one! Stay tuned.


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